Past The '90s

The Heroine.

2012-02-15T13:43:00.001+05:30

Something made the whole point of the spectacle escape her comprehension. It was a language so foreign, so abstract, yet so ethereal to her. She didn't understand it at all, no matter how long she stared, no matter how long she stood trying to get the best shots of it, but she felt like she was part of it. She hadn't even imagined something like it, not even when she was under and hallucinating.

The first thing she did after getting home was plug her camera into her computer.
She flipped through the one thousand ninety eight photos she had taken that day. She had almost forgotten that other people were with her till she saw the pictures. There were some they took of her too.

She finally reached the pictures she took of the sky. She was disappointed. There was a connection between her eyes and the strokes of nature during that sunset that had been severed by the one thing that usually strengthened her bond with the world - her lens.

She closed the picture preview. She closed the windows on her screen. She plugged her mp3 player into the speakers, and played the Ólafur Arnalds album "...And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness".
With the pianist on repeat, she fell asleep curled up in the warmth of her blanket and prayed that she saw that sunset again in her dream, for tomorrow she'd have to go back to being just another actress, just another movie star.

Photos courtesy Chandni Sareen.

*Special thanks to Chandni for letting me use her pictures for this short story, and Nuzha Embrahim for being an unsuspecting participant and having nice frames!*

L'Artiste.

2012-02-13T22:17:00.000+05:30

He pushed the button.
Silence.
He waited.
Not a sound, only the echo of his own nervous breathing.
He'd try again later.

In his head, she had the aura of a dream with the demeanour of a vixen. Something like an angel who had transcended goodness, what with all the piercings on her face and ears contradicted by her bright eyes.
But that was just the artist in him being romantic. In reality, she was just another muse.

His easel stared back at him, blank and lonely, reflecting his mental state without her.
He picked up his phone and flipped through her pictures. Has he ever "missed" a muse?
Was she just another muse?
It seemed insulting for him to think so.

He walked back to his kitchen, to the phone and hit redial again.
Still, no answer. Not even a dial tone.
It obviously wasn't okay to just go over there yet. It had been just a month since they met, and he had dropped her home just once, but never went upstairs or even close to the door. In fact, he even remembered her talking about some man or the other.
He was still dying to go. She was definitely more than a muse.

He tried her cellphone. It rang, and rang, and rang, and went to her voicemail.
*BEEP* and he hung up. How needy it would be to actually leave a voice message. He went back into his room. She hadn't contacted him for days. He wanted her around all the time, and she didn't even seem to care.

*KNOCK KNOCK*
Ah! There she is! Must've just lost her phone, or maybe she had been travelling and left it at home...
He hurried excitedly to the door, and then suddenly slowed down. From window, he saw postman.
At 4 p.m.? How odd. With a puzzled look he opened the door, "And how can I help you, sir?"
"You are l'artiste American? Parlez-vous français?"
"Oui. Je suis un Parisien."
"Ah, bonsoir. Cette lettre... est pour toi."

The address was scribbled in her writing, and he opened it gently, barely noticing the postman leave.
He stared blankly at it for what felt like 20 minutes right there at his door.
He looked up at the empty, blank, lonely street. Another reflection, another paralleled travesty of his life.
Finally, tears began to fill into his eyes. Of rage, of futility, of helplessness, and of reality.

He looked at his easel, blank and lonely, reflecting what was permanent at the time.
The paint on his palette had all but dried, and there was never any paint on his brush to begin with.
She had run away with some man, and either way, she was never his to begin with.

Words of a Muse.

She Didn't Have To Try.

2012-02-10T21:15:00.000+05:30

"Colourful Thoughts."
Model: Namaah Kumar

*She adjusted her T shirt to make sure she wasn't sweaty.

She looked down at her shoes and bit her pierced lip.

He was late, but it was okay.

She had all day.

*He stared at her for ten whole minutes.

He saw her shuffle around and try to look really pretty.

She didn't have to try at all.

He knew he was late, but the sunlight fell so perfectly on her hair.

He had to stop and stare.

The Sound Of.

2012-02-06T23:29:00.001+05:30

I saw him laugh heartily, at his own joke of course. He cracks a lot of jokes, I can tell. He's such a funny guy.
He picked up his guitar right after, stepped to the mic, made an announcement and then started singing what seemed to be the best song in the world. The room began to vibrate from the sounds and the equally strong response from the crowd. As my smile grew wider, my heart began to race with the thumping of the bass drum. I blushed, and clapped.
The next morning was just perfect. Like heaven - waking up to his smiling face in some distant beach-y place. He took me out for coffee, beer and breakfast. I had the coffee, and watched his many changing expressions, the only response of his that I can so clearly understand and empathise with at every moment.
However ridiculous it is, I can't imagine being with someone else. I know what you're thinking and honestly, I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind. I wonder, sometimes, what he says when people ask him, "So you're a brilliant and successful musician in love with a deaf girl. Wow, man, what's that like?"

Don't Say A Word.

2012-02-05T19:44:00.000+05:30

She quickly picked up her daughter and put her in the closet. She reached to the top shelf, pulled down her double-barrel as silently as she could and re-checked the cupboard door to make sure it was fully closed. They were still in the living room, she could tell.

"Wait here. Don't move an inch."

She loaded the gun, took a few extra rounds and crept out of the closet.

She came back to her daughter, squatted on the floor and said "There's just two of them, okay."

She looked over her shoulder, they were coming up the stairs now, she could hear their footsteps.

"Honey, I love you." She took her daughter's hand and placed it on her mouth.

"Don't say a word."

Three seconds passed.

BANG. BANG.

ObSCuRe

2012-01-31T21:53:00.000+05:30

Who would’ve thought that, in a state like mine, I would actually see her. I hadn’t seen her in years, not even when I was at my worst, and now when I’m finally done with nothing left to look forward to, she comes back and changes everything.

It’s weird, you know. Like watching someone eat a combination of food that you would never think of eating in your many years of being awake. You might have had a dream about it, but you’ll never know because it was completely wiped out once you woke up. That’s how it is with us now. Like pasta and jam, or ice cream and pencil shavings. Yes, something like that.

We never really knew each other inside out. Every time she was around, I’d zone out completely. Life would be thriving inside my head and she’d be doing some other such. People often say we’re the same, but I never thought so.

Pasta and jam. They’re both really tasty individually, but they just must not be served in the same plate, you know. Sometimes the sauce in the pasta’s too spicy so jam just might help because it’s sweet. Or it’s just not the right time in the day for jam (although some believe it can be eaten at any time) so you opt for the pasta.

Ice cream and pencil shavings? Haha, I don’t know why myself. It’s just something she’d say…

Ah, that brings out the other truth. We may not know each other too well, but we know what each other would say, or would think about a particular subject. Sometimes, I even feel like I’ve experienced something she has, but in reality it’s never happened to me before.

The pulchritude of this whole melodramatic episode lies in the fact that she has actually decided to emerge when I’ve needed her. During a particularly horrible phase, atleast at twice the magnitude of this, she refused to turn up. She knows I have no family, and that she has none either. But her absence puzzled me and, because of who I am, I didn’t ask her anything the next time I did talk to her. It would’ve just been another firestarter if I had.

Frankly, her presence now was making me feel uneasy. I don’t know why. I felt like I could feel myself slipping away again, zoning out. I faced the mirror. She smiled and waved, then winked. Horror. I knew what would happen now. My time had come.

I lost control of my hands, my back and soon my legs. I did not lose balance though; she had already taken over. I could feel her push me into that box at the back of my mind. Her mind.

I lost all control of the body we shared.

I fought for my right to be able to observe. To watch. To see what she was doing and what was going on in the world.

Her merciless heart wished to block that too, but she knew it was wrong to do so.

Tears began to stream from her eyes. No. From my eyes.

She wiped them away, and I was left to weep in that minuscule room somewhere in between.

All I could feel was my own sorrow and her darkened thoughts, both playing with my mind and killing me as well.

Ice cream and pencil shavings. Pasta and jam.

They should never be served on the same plate.

What I Have Done.

2012-01-30T16:03:00.001+05:30

Subject: Launch of Self

Location: Facebook, Internet

Medium: Artist's Page

Content: Blog updates; Work Updates; Art Releases/Updates/Pictures

Time Taken: The Weekend

Navigate: Niyati Writes

*Thank you, and have a great day!*

Interlude.

2012-01-29T01:10:00.000+05:30

Spiralling outward from my spine

These waves that tell me

We will shine

As I break from these chains of mine

My limbs help me

To combine

What otherwise would be

An interlude with no harmony.

Pretty Pictures

2012-01-27T20:02:00.000+05:30

Portrait Shoot of Me by Tanvi Madkaiker

Did a fabulous shoot with Tanvi Madkaiker a little while ago, and the pictures are finally up. She's a brilliant photographer, a perfect mix of classic and modern when it comes to her vision.

She has this supercool foldable reflector disc, silver on one side and gold on the other. It was definitely the "highlight" of the shoot for me.

Her facebook page and website have all you need to see and contact her.
I strongly recommend it.

Thanks and cheers!

*Big thanks to Tanvi for the shoot, and Arjun for the location.*

Things Change.

2011-12-27T23:41:00.000+05:30

"Things change," you said
As you cradled my head
That leaked its soul
Upon your shoulder.
I cried some more,
Till my nerves were sore,
And you cradled me still
As it grew colder.
I wished I was bolder.

I spoke to you
Of broken sinews
That unweave themselves
As we grow older.
You replied with calm
You tightened your arms
And still stroked my hair
Flowing on your shoulder.
I said, "I want to be bolder."

I leaked my soul
A soul that was whole
I leaked my soul
Upon your shoulder.
Upon my soldier.
Upon your shoulder.
I can now say I'm finally bolder.

True or False

2011-12-21T02:42:00.000+05:30

There’s a strain when you swallow,

I see sweat on your brow,
No lights on your cheeks
When you talk to me now.

Your words cause deflection,
Your stance is unsure,
My questions go unanswered
So I keep throwing more.

Missiles fall on my head,
They’re all coming from you;
A battlefield of these thoughts
And words I’ve found untrue.

I’m shocked and disarmed,
Now I watch from my base
As you send in your faux fighters
And hide your real face.

Sharp statements come flying,
Ripping through my air,
Desecrating my soldiers
That I had fought to lay bare.

Your army of nothing,
Your weapons of choice,
Destroy my entire force
Without making a noise.

It’s too late now
To put away your guns
Don’t stop now
This can’t be undone

Can you not see
Nothing verbal is on your side?
Can you not see
Nothing from you will ease my mind?
Can you not see
Nothing you say will make me go blind?
But you still tell me I can close my eyes.

There's a strain when you swallow,

Still more sweat on your brow,
No lights on my cheeks
As you deceive me now.

So tell me just how
You live with your lies,
Tell me how
You invite these goodbyes,
Tell me again
How you don’t hear my cries
And tell me just how
You find a way to sleep at night.

When you’re done annihilating,
When you’re through tearing my shreds,
I just want you to promise me
You won’t do this to anyone else.

Rules of the Universe Returns!

2011-12-18T11:42:00.002+05:30

I've written a new post on my other blog after two years.

http://rulesoftheuniverse.blogspot.com/

Please, don't hesitate to click, read and share.
It's all free.

Thank you!

The Keeper.

2011-12-02T22:06:00.001+05:30

Do you still wish you were seventeen

With all theroom to display

Your mistakes asachievements

And think theywill wash away?

Or are you stuckat fifty four

One more stepoutside the door

Because it didn’treally matter

What you reallyhad to say?

Age is just anumber that’s

Tied up by

Memories,

Keep yours safefor a while

In the pocketwith your

Keys.

Did someone hearyou out loud

When youwhispered in my ear,

Or was it youhesitating to speak

Because yourmind is still unclear?

You’re not thatyoung anymore,

But you’ll neverbe this old,

We may never beclever enough to know

That we’realways a bit too bold.

Age is just anumber that’s

Tied up by

Memories,

Keep yours safefor a while

In the pocketwith your

Keys.

Skeletons areleft in the closet
Secrets are kept in a box.
Carefully choose who gets toopen
All of your little locks.

Skeletons are kept in thecloset
Secrets are dropped in a box.
You choose who gets to undo
All your precious locks.

TheKey.

Camouflage.

2011-11-18T16:52:00.001+05:30

It is not the changing colours or the beady black eyes; it is not the shelter of leaves that makes me a chameleon.
Bugs do not tempt my tongue, a stench will definitely make me nauseous. I do not even have a tail to make me a chameleon
So I fall back into the background, choosing to hide from sight and sound, completely aware that I’ve made myself invisible like a chameleon.

Like a chameleon.

I don’t need a cloak
Or some key to some door,
I see it’s a bit obvious
That I’m not what you’re looking for.

Change wont come in an instant
And I can’t walk on walls.
My tail won’t grow back
If you decide to break it off.

I can’t stay on a branch
For fifteen of your days,
I can’t stain myself blue
To fit your blue ways.

But I blend in really well
When you’re under my tree
My silence reinforces how
You don’t seem to see me.

I Had A Flat Today

2011-10-31T19:50:00.001+05:30

So my car broke down a few days ago and I thought it would only be fit to write a little tribute.

This is the original copy of the song, re-written by me and me only.
Please sing in melody of "I Want It That Way":

You are my tire
Punctured, on fire
I threw you away
'Cause I had a flat today.

But we got on the road
To go get a load
Of things for my birthday
But I had a flat today.

Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but a spike strip
Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but a bad trip
Tell my why?
I never go that way
'Cause I had a flat today.

I am your driver
I set you on fire
Yes I know it's too late
'Cause I had a flat today.

Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but the dumpyard
Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but an old car
Tell me why?
I only wanna burn you away
'Cause I had a flat today.

Now I can see that your falling apart
From the way that you used to be, my car
No matter the distance I want you to go
You're going to breakdown on me

"You are now fired"
I punctured my tire
You are, you are, you are, you are...

Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but a bad road
Tell me why?
Ain't nothin' but a wide-load
Tell me why?
I'm so glad that you broke down today
'Cause I crashed you anyway
'Cause I crashed you anyway...

Thank you.

The Tangent.

2011-10-20T20:23:00.000+05:30

"The tangent line (or simply the tangent) to a curve at a given point is the straight line that just touches the curve at that point. As it passes through the point where the tangent line and the curve meet, or the point of tangency, the tangent line is going in the same direction as the curve, and in this sense it is the best straight-line approximation to the curve at that point."

Somewhere along the line
That is tangent to you
I see a little space for me

Should I go in?
I wonder what I’ll see
If I walk into you

Just ahead there’s a spot
A place for my entry
Upon this line

On tip-toes, I see
How you welcome me
To notice you

And my math tells me
Everything will be fine
Just as long as I walk
As long as I stay
On your tangent line.

The Tangent Line

As of October 2011

2011-10-20T19:15:00.001+05:30

A small update on my life:
I'm now on my own again, a free bird, and an even better freelance writer than before. Yes, it's possible.

My time as the Editor for an online magazine was quite exciting, actually, and it's a shame I had to quit, but we all have to move on at some point right?

Anyway, the point here is I had been updating a story every week on the Emaho Magazine website.
It was pretty much my baby, and I'm quite pleased with some of it. I do wish I had more time to work on it and make the story really go somewhere, but I guess I'll just have to write a better story instead!

Please, if you have time, go through the few chapters I've written that are up on the site.
All of the chapters, including the Prologue, have been written by me; ignore the incorrect author tag.

Here's the link:
http://www.emahomagazine.com/category/travelling-shiva/

Thanks a lot, and if you've got some extra time, I've also been doing a bunch of interviews, so don't miss those either.
Contact me here if you like the work :) Feedback is always appreciated.

Cheers!

Apologies and An Update

2011-08-25T22:08:00.000+05:30

It's not like I haven't been writing, don't worry. It's just that I haven't been writing for my blog or for any personal reasons.
Here's where I've really been:

http://www.emahomagazine.com/
I'm working as the Editor at Emaho Magazine. The print copies should launch in a month's time.

http://www.facebook.com/emahomagazine
We're on facebook, so you can keep up with the articles and what we share.

http://www.twitter.com/EmahoMagazine
We're also now on twitter, and updates go there directly from the website once a new article is published.

Please, register yourself on the website, through facebook, or follow us on twitter. It would mean the world to me. Emaho's tagline is Capturing Creativity. I don't think I need to say more.
Enjoy, and I will be posting here very soon, I hope.

Cheers.

Cocoa-Nut.

2011-07-12T04:54:00.002+05:30

The first time my blog is featuring a collaboration. I wrote this with Arjun Kanungo in Goa while sipping some hot chocolate and watching the wind and rain slay the coconut trees.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cocoa-Nut.

I shouldn't have taken that flight

Because I've ended up spending the night

On top of a coconut tree.

I did it to better my sight, I think,

I did it to better my might, I think,

But got stuck here, unfortunately.

The wind now is not forgiving,

And I've questioned the meaning of living

On top of the coconut tree.

My underwear is tearing,

Yes, the one my bum is wearing

Holding the weight of me.

Oh! How it feels to hang by a thread,

If I was home, I would wet my bed,

But NO, I'm on a coconut tree!

The alcohol went to my head,

Which now just feels like lead

And this is definitely not where I should be.

I really need to get down,

Without tearing more of my nightgown

On top of this coconut tree.

I barely remember how I got here,

Not a lot is really very clear

Except that I need someone to BLOODY RESCUE ME!

Window Plane.

2011-07-12T04:37:00.001+05:30

Wrote this on my flight back to Bombay after my Phuket-Bangkok trip in June, 2011.

Just a passing wind of thoughts, like everything else outside the aircraft...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Window Plane

The red light flashing on the wing

Doesn't mean a thing

When it's just me

The stars reflecting the city lights

Just don’t seem as bright

When it’s just me,

How solitary.

Not even turbulent weather

Can stir up a storm whenever

It’s just me,

Water trickling down clear glass,

The reflection of my only mask

When it’s just me

And I’m solitary.

Lightning wars in the clouds,

A witness to the heavenly shroud

And it’s just me.

But thoughts of you when I’m high,

My childish cravings in the sky

Fill the seat beside me

Though I’m still solitary.

Love is War.

2011-01-18T06:46:00.000+05:30

Two in one night. I might have outdone myself...

***

We fight for what we care for. We love what we fight for. We care for what we love.

Mingled in all this is the passion that drives us and keeps us rooted.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tip of my tongue

The tip of your finger

The tip of the iceberg

And the explosions

They’re all around

Loud sounds

Broken glass

Strewn across the ground.

Back and forth

This boat moves us

As we steer

Into unclear waters.

The tip of your tongue

The tip of my finger

The edge of the volcano

And the eruptions

They’re more than we feel

Making us heal

Yet so vulnerable

Dropping us to kneel.

Down and out

Is where we’re left

As we embrace

To depend on each other.

Warm Smells, Warm Sounds.

2011-01-18T00:58:00.001+05:30

In the worst of times, in the coldest of times, when I thought all was lost, I got just what I needed.

Warmth and reassurance.

Without it, this winter would not have been the same.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warm smells, warm sounds

As I rest

My head that drowns

Upon your chest.

Through waves, through beats

They go;

My senses feel the heat

That flows,

While uniting, it frees

What one never sees

In lifetimes present and done,

But experience, it shows

What emotion already knows-
A force that makes us one.

Of Loss.

2010-11-27T16:50:00.000+05:30

Of Loss.

I never faced it

But there is a void

I never saw it

But there is a void

Even in clear skies

I never knew it

But it lays in goodbyes

Who’s to say

Where we lay

At the end

Of another day?

I can taste it

And its sweet ways

I can feel it

And its sweet sways

That don’t exist

I can sense it

And its cold closed fist.

Who’s to see

What will be

At the end

Of being free?

Even in clear skies

It lays in goodbyes

That don’t exist

Without a cold clenched fist.

Tribute to Thought

2010-10-05T22:13:00.002+05:30

I have't written a lot lately, but that does not mean I haven't been thinking.
Descartes said "Cogito Ergo Sum" i.e. "I think, therefore I am."
And, much later, Lacan said "“I think where I am not therefore, I am where I do not think”
Both sentences, though seemingly contradictory, only prove the presence of thought, the presence of the mind and in turn the presence of the self.

I've noticed, we all shy away from thinking beyond what we know.
Those who dared to do so - from Napoleon and Rousseau to Einstein, Newton, Archimedes, Plato, et al - are now known to us as revolutionaries, as great men of their times and of ours too (in that which they wrote, theorised and discovered).

So I just have a small message today:
THINK - do something most people don't do.

We dumb ourselves down, and sometimes even intoxicate ourselves, so that we don't think, because we're afraid of what we might discover or realise - because we all fear the unknown. Kill that fear, set your mind free. Let your most powerful organ do what it was created to do.

A tribute to some of the greatest thinkers, inventors, scientists, artists (painters,musicians,et al), writers and philosophers - THE PEOPLE THAT DARED TO THINK AND EXPLORE.

Barely

2010-08-09T01:00:00.001+05:30

I've barely written anything in a really long time, but I typed this out on my phone some months ago and decided it was time to publish.

Enjoy.

-------------------------------------------------

Barely
I barely know where I start or end,
I can barely see beyond the bend,
And I barely feel this oncoming trend
Of silent nights that mend
A broken heart or broken soul,
Broken by an abysmal hole;
A broken dream of an impossible goal
That steadily takes its toll.

So I barely see the morning light
I can barely sleep on a silent night
I barely know if I won't or might
Wake up from sheer fright
Of all the things I never said,
All the things inside my head,
All the things that make me tread
Over trails I dread.

Now I barely know if I should rest,
I can barely tell what would be best,
But I barely feel like I've confessed
My innocence in this test.

In a Fog

2010-01-02T03:31:00.001+05:30

"Always been, always will be a one man show. You're born, you die with only yourself. That's what this year is about for me. I am all I've really got."

This is about where I am and where I want to be, where we all should be.

Happy new year

-----------------------------------------------------

In a Fog

I look around and see
No one and nothing around me.
I don’t recall how I got here
But with no world I have no fear.

Nothing beyond and nothing before
Not a little less or a little more
Just enough, this space that I fill
Myself, my mind with all that’s tranquil

I don’t care for distance or for meaning
No time changing, no sun gleaming
And the road feels cold under my feet
I hold myself, I’m all I need.

I’ve let go of what exists
And I’ve given up all that persists.
I feel a blanket cover my eyes
And wipe away the tears that dried.

I look around and see
No one and nothing around me
Just peace and serenity.

Symphonic

2009-12-09T06:06:00.004+05:30

Symphonic

One moment.

One immeasurable piece of time.

Often, that’s all we have.

And she looked at him and said "I want to dance with you like you're the Devil and I've been doing it all my life."

We’re all caught in our loops. Walking, talking, breathing.

Does it really ever register?

Do we even know what we belong to?

So he took her hand and led her inside. He made sharp moves, swift turns. Like an artist spraying his mind over canvas. The red from her clothes filled the floor like oil poured out to be set on fire.

Norms and rules of society.

Do we really want to adhere to them?

Can't we see what they make us miss?

And he looked at her and said “You just danced with the Devil like you’ve been doing it all your life... all your life...”

How much longer do we really have?

Will we see our souls burn out?

I don’t think we can ever really know.

We've been doing it all our lives.

Acrophobic.

2009-11-10T23:22:00.000+05:30

Do me a favour before you read this: Clear your head completely and let these words allow you to visualise.
Thanks.
Enjoy.

----------------------------------

Acrophobic.

Hands placed, fingers spread

Can you feel the pressure?

It’s blowing the wind out of me;

A bond I need to sever.

Tipping now, ready to slip,

Toes slowly unclenched.

I’m alone, but it’s safe to say

You’re pushing me off the edge.

That sudden breeze, flashing images,

Now do you see me smile?

It’s all over now, finally.

Thanks for the good times.

The Beginning of a Mass Murderer.

2009-09-30T02:54:00.002+05:30

The Beginning of a Mass Murderer.

The orphanage. A socially acceptable way of saying “Kids on sale”. A place I must call home.

Sometimes it’s a couple that comes by, sometimes just the wife. Or maybe even a single woman wanting to add meaning to her life without changing her name. I always hope these people find what they want... then take it and leave.

Like any other day, I had just finished sharing my lunch with the tomcat that’s lost within these gates too. Grievisburgh. No, not the cat; the name of the holy place. Grievisburgh Housing for Homeless Children: A place you visit to sign up for a more evolved pet.

Rattles (the cat) and I sat munching in the front garden, and watched as this chirpy couple drove into the gates in this chirpy convertible, which I’m sure had a chirpier horn. We cringed.

People like this come by all the time. Oh, the monstrous smiles on my roommates’ faces. I just don’t understand it. Why would you want to live with them? Greivisburgh isn’t that bad. I’m sure they don’t have a cat.

To make everyone think I’m the same, I smile too when I’m around them or the nurses. I’ve come to realise that people, whatever their age, can’t deal with someone different. That too is what scares me about these overly joyous families. Coping quotient equals Zero. It sends shivers down my spine.

Imagine living in someone’s yellow and pink single-storied cottage. Just looking at that bright red convertible made me want to throw up.

About a half hour later, Rattles and I saw that couple walk out of the office area with a nurse walking ahead. I knew what had happened. They were all staring right at me. And smiling.

I stood up and held Rattles in my hands.

I smiled back.

You know why.

I noticed my smile made the nurse at least eighty five percent less edgy about this transaction.

They walked over to me, explained the obvious and said my stuff was already packed. I couldn’t take Rattles, but they’d buy me a dog next week. A dog. I clenched my jaw tight and just smiled.

Lucky them, my hands were full.

My things were loaded into the car. I said goodbye to all those jealous little boys and girls that I had shared twelve years of my life with. Oh, I saw their eyes burn with longing as they stood at the windows to wave. Lookie whose smiles are fake now! This is the happiest they’ve ever made me here at Grievisburgh.

Now I will no longer be at Grievisburgh. I’m out. I’m done. No more fake smiles, from me or anyone else. It’s the real world. Real food. Real people. People with parents. People that aren’t “visiting” because they want to buy donated children. So many different people.

If my room is brighter than muddy brown, I’m going to kill these two.

Muse.

2009-09-21T04:08:00.001+05:30

The beginning of becoming a creator.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Muse.

Tracing fine lines to make a smile

Sounds quite simple.

Add an extra stroke,

Try a pinch of folk

To make the surface twinkle.

Splash on some colour to create a sky

Where light sings.

Now make it snow

And make life glow.

Open up some subtler things.

Fire morning grass with sparkling dew

Created so sublime.

Spray in a dream,

Stitch another seam,

Make your hues rhyme.

Can’t you see?

I am your muse.

Actualise me.

An Awkward Silence.

2009-09-19T22:36:00.000+05:30

Another shot at an amalgam of prose and poetry.

Hope you like it.

P.S. I've realised that the less I write, the more I mean to say. Is that normal? Do norms even exist when it comes to this stuff?

I hope not.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An Awkward Silence

"Last season, the trees spoke.

The birds woke.

My life shook,

And I broke."

Those are the words my mind pieces together as I lie awake staring at the ceiling.

Honestly,

I can't really see it.

And finally

I'm away from the city chaos.

In this silence all I can hear is footsteps on the ground; sounds of myself walking through my past.

I’ll never know why my life plays in my head all the time. I’ll never know why only bits and pieces of it stick around and make me so unsure. But I’ll always know that the only thing I have in this life is myself.

I just wish that was enough.

RULES OF THE UNIVERSE SERIES

2009-08-29T18:34:00.000+05:30

I've shifted all the Rules of the Universe posts to a new blog.

Will be writing all my posts in that series on the new blog so please check it out and follow if you like it =]

Here's the link: http://rulesoftheuniverse.blogspot.com/

Thanks!

Enjoy =]

Unfamiliar

2009-07-31T04:23:00.000+05:30

The simplest rhymes. The biggest message. The closest to how I feel.
I haven't written like this in so long.
Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unfamiliar

It's finally setting in.
It's finally settling down.
So this is what I get
For hiding so long.

I'm walking streets,
I'm walking roads,
But no ones sees
And nobody knows
Who I am and
Who I was.
I've become another
Forgotten cause.

It's hard to say,
It's hard to do.
This coming together
Will take time too..
But thank you.

Everyone's a Hypocrite

2009-04-16T01:48:00.000+05:30

Here's a link to a site that's done research on Facebook and how it's affecting students academically---> http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/facebookusers.htm
READ THAT FIRST, OTHERWISE WHAT I'VE WRITTEN BELOW WILL SOUND LIKE RUBBISH RANTING. Which is what it probably is anyway.
Then read everything I've written below.

MY DEBATE AGAINST WHAT THIS SITE STATES:
Firstly, I found that the whole article sounded like brainwashing. Like Brutus' speech at Caesar's funeral. Every parent will read this and think "facebook DOES affect grades" even though it doesn't directly say so.

People who aren't on facebook don't find the need to sign up BECAUSE they study 11 to 15 hours a day and really honestly would have TIME to sign up because they're busy studying.
Their life does not revolve around people, it revolves around books and their academics. Which means they wouldn't even HAVE too many friends on facebook.
So if one high scoring student wont sign up, it means his group is also not on facebook because they too are high scoring students who study as much.
Different priorities result in different actions.

People always think of social life affecting academics, but never academics affecting social life.
Something like this is always mutual. It always goes both ways.
These surveys are carried out by professors who do not even understand a younger generation because they're not in it. Experience always leads to a better understanding than word of mouth.
The people on facebook probably find more happiness in knowing other people and cultures around the world that studying about amoeba or Mohenjo Daro.

"Research" once said that the internet linked the whole world and that it is the most wondrous discovery in the new age.
"Research" also showed that people learn more through the internet and are more motivated to learn through the internet than before.
Now suddenly, because this newer generation wishes to create better ties with their own species, "research" wants to find faults in that which they once stated was good.

They're being hypocrites. This just shows that people are narrow-minded and are unable to accept a revolution of unity in diversity because it goes against what they were taught in their generation.
Excelling and being the best at academics is NOT on top priority to a large percentage of this generation. This generation wishes to balance it with everything else. This generation seeks more to bring peace and unity among people and facebook is a newfound connection to a way of doing so.
So why would anyone care to relate facebook to bad grades?
So what??
There is a greater good, there is a bigger picture, there is more to this world and universe that can only be seen if we open our minds to it instead of criticising everything.
Thank you.
I love writing anti-theses :D

Since I've barely written in a while..

2008-11-04T20:04:00.000+05:30

My loving mother has a new blog.
If you don't check it out, I will rip your head off.
Thanks =]

Here's the link:

http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.com/

Read it, and quake with laughter.

The After-party

2008-05-22T23:55:00.000+05:30

It's around 12 in the morning between the 21st and 22nd May, 2008.

I got home about half an hour ago (which should explain the title) and this felt like it needed to be written. I hope this sends out the right message to everyone reading.

Thanks for being here and taking time to go through my blog, it means a lot.

Don't think twice about leaving comments, be they positive or negative.

Cheers.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The After-party

I see this girl,

Her skin is marred

By spots and stripes,

And if you join them

They make symbols of love

Across her face.

Everything she sees

And everything she touches

Creates waves through her universe

That rebound off walls

And end up deep inside your soul

Only to resonate.

She finds power in anxiety,

Which is a proliferation to a mood

That cannot be broken

But instead multiplies

To astound the world,

Leaving nothing and no one at rest.

Just feeling this movement

That goes on inside her

Inspires dizziness in euphoria

That you cannot let go of because

It shakes you up and says,

“This is art. This is beauty. This is truth.

And it is lost.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Conclusive.

2008-01-11T01:47:00.001+05:30

This was my whole 2007.

Happy new year.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Conclusive.

I hold on
Close my eyes.
My body shatters
Fragile. Glass.
Footsteps crunching
A march on pieces
Left. Right.
Messy rooms...

Someone bring them out
Thoughts in a flurry.
Information: place and time
Unavailable.
Scattered across
Tiny particles cover the floor.
Tears are shed.
Meaningless?
Momentary.

It's finally over.
They're all leaving.
She cleans me up.
Caring.
Thanks.

To the dearest...

2007-08-20T23:29:00.001+05:30

August 10, '06

To the dearest...

Emerald Eyes

Now shut tight.

Swift movements,

they've neutralized.

Away from the wretched

lay she there,

Nose between paws,

Breathless... bare...

A softish grey,

Sparks of silver,

A hum of sound,

Then one last quiver.

Somewhere pleasant,

a place unknown,

There she lay

cold to the bone.

These tragedies

and hurtful things

come back to us,

the good-souled beings..

We miss you terribly

my love, my dear.

May those emerald eyes

always stay clear..

Cleo, we miss you, we love you and we will never forget the joy you brought to us all..

Blind..

2007-08-20T23:21:00.001+05:30

July 13

Blind

It’s another one of those days, I thought to myself. One more day where all I’ll want is something warm, knowing it isn’t there and I won’t get it for a while now. Listen to yourself, Joanne, you’re going crazy… But how can I help myself? Doesn’t everyone want permanent shelter?
I looked out the window. Snow. Three feet high.
It was definitely one of those days.
I put on another layer of clothing hoping that would make me a little warmer. I walked into the study and looked around. The only thing that hadn’t caught dust was that black photo frame. The books, the shelves, the bottles, all dusty. I glanced at the frame. I could feel it somewhere at the back of my mind, trying to surface, and then I could feel myself holding it all back. Poison, that’s what it was. Just another wicked poison.

An hour later I risked the white. Put on some snow shoes and made my way down the deserted street. All windows were shut, all stores closed, and everyone inside their houses. Just the way I liked it.
Brisk, cold winds blew past my ears, blowing my uncovered hair into my face.
“Joanne dear,” I heard the wind say, “get home, Jo, home”
I walked another two blocks. Dragged my feet into the park and trudged my way to a bench. I wiped the snow off and sat down.
“Joanne” it said again, “home, Joanne”

I thought about it again. I thought about why I had cleaned only that one picture in my beautiful study and why I had left all my other wonderful books covered in webs of dirt. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but ignoring my books didn’t give me any happiness. It made me colder.
“Joanne, my love,”
Was it because I still longed for it?
“get yourself home, love”
Was it because I missed it? Because it caught my eye?
“Joanne! Go home!”
Because I wanted him back from…

A bird came and sat on my lap, bringing me out of my peaceful oblivion. I decided to head home. “Hurry Jo, hurry…” I heard it say. Nonsense, it seemed like nothing but nonsense.
I climbed the stairs to the 7^th floor because the elevator was down due to the heavy snow. Three and a half feet now.
I took out my keys, put them in, and opened the door.
Everything spun. Everything.
“I told you Jo, I told you to get home”
A heaving pain rose from my chest, ran through my body and stopped all of a sudden. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t feel.
“It’s too late Jo. You heard the doctor. Exactly three months is what he said Jo. Three months if you didn’t stay in there Jo. I’m sorry Jo. It’s over. I’ll never forget you Jo. I love you Jo. I wish you took me out of that frame Jo.”

The Unknown

2007-08-20T23:11:00.002+05:30

April 11

The end is for you to imagine. Maybe i'll continue it or let the end dangle. For now, imagine it as suddenly seeing through the eyes of someone else. Figure out the rest for yourself.
Once again, this is in no way connected to my life!

THE UNKNOWN

I walked through the shadowy corridor, rain pounding on the rooftops outside. If I looked straight ahead, dim rays of light told me it was still morning. It had been raining for three days…

“Progress, regress, it’s all the same,

I keep moving on.

I watch the day move slowly by

And live my life till dawn.”

I turned right into another much smaller corridor. Third door on the left, it said. The door was painted completely black. Just the way I like it. I inserted the key, turned it and pushed. Normally, that’s how you open a door.

“I have an eye everywhere,

In front and on the back,

To watch for things that lurk,

To find the things I lack.”

A bed, two lights, two chairs and a window. That was the most furniture I had seen in three days, being stuck between two buildings, living off things that were not rightfully mine. But I had to find him. I had started the search and I was not going to stop because of some stupid weather change.

I took out the piece of paper from my pocket. It was a little wet but Nev had used his head; he had used a ball pen. The address of this apartment was on it. “Second right, third door on the left. Hope you like it. Left something under the bed because I know you will come looking for me.” That was all it said.

“We perceive the world as rough and tough,

Though we know it can deceive.

We move along like a gentle breeze,

Through us, the thorns will weave.”

I took out the package from under the bed. Opened it and found about hundred bucks. “Eat something!” the note said. Then something else fell out. It was an invite from a Mr. O’Donnel to Nev. There was a symbol on the bottom left. I had seen it somewhere. I couldn’t place it though. Anyway, I had another day. The meeting was taking place tomorrow evening. I quickly took out my notepad and continued my writing…

“When life is lost, no clue left behind,

The first thought would be to pray,

But if He too had let you go,

Remember, you made it through yesterday.”

The Beauty and the B*tch

2007-08-20T23:07:00.003+05:30

April '05

The Beauty and the B*tch

She held my hand and walked me to shelter. She stood by me through times of pain. She heard me talk; she listened well.

Then she went and she whispered to another, a soft giggle escaping after each sentence. Eyes stared, eyes glared. I turned a cold shoulder. More whispered, more murmured, more giggled. I pretended to ignore. Some asked, some wondered, some worried. Most laughed, most stared, most glared.

Then one came to me, concerned. She looked at me with compassion in her eyes. She saw I was hurt. She knew there was something wrong. It took me time to realize that she knew.

She held my hand and walked me to shelter. She stood by me through times of pain. She heard me talk; she listened well.

Then she told me to look away from the others. She told me to be myself. She told me I was my own person. She told me that actually, I was really happy. I turned a cold shoulder. She still insisted. Then I looked at her and asked her why no one saw what she saw. She said that it was because they know only how to whisper. She said they knew only how to stare and glare. She said they were nobodies, they were jealous of being able to feel. She said they didn’t understand that others can feel. I appreciated her. I thanked her. I became her friend.

I took her hand and walked her to shelter. I stood by her through times of pain. I heard her talk; she said I was a good listener.
I found a friend. Everyone else still whisper, still murmur, still stare, still glare, still giggle, still ask, still wonder…

Boom!

2007-08-20T22:58:00.001+05:30

It shook the ground,
My head span round
As the toaster fell on the floor.
The oven blew,
The toaster flew
All the way out the door!
The lamps fell,
So did the bell
That hung near my loo!
The deodorant sprayed,
The dragon slayed
‘Coz the knight had caught the flu!
The dog yelped,
The cat helped
And they did it both together.
The fridge fell down,
And squirted the clown
That wasn’t feeling any better!
I moved away,
Nothing to say
And a headache that grew with time.
The cops came in,
And shot the dustbin
That was trying to commit a crime.
They picked me up,
And gave me my cup
That had hit them with a broom.
But what did I miss
That caused all this
With just one big Boom!